Christmas present, wrapped up in a sweater?
by ginaromano2012
Summary: Once again, another oneshot on Sherlock and my OC Jess!


I frowned at the sweater John had just thrust in my direction. It was an itchy looking number that was very...festive. I was currently sitting on the floor of 221B baker street's lounge, next to Sherlock's long legs, the rest of him in his mnd palace. "Er, it's very...fitting and, umn, green? " I said, worrying about John's fashion sense, why would he want to buy such an ugly thing? It was a dirty looking green with little insane looking reindeer on it with bright red noses, and when I say on it, I mean all over it. I looked up to see Sherlock still in his mind palace. I sighed, he had better hurry up, we had to start getting ready for the annual (and much dreaded on Sherlock's part) Christmas party that Mrs. Hudson held for close friends. I was just happy I was included on that list, I hadn't been part of their lives for very long.

"Do you think Mary will like it?" John asked,snapping me out of my reverie. I blinked at him, contemplating whether or not the truth should be told at a time like this, but luckily I didn't have to answer as he was already walking away, mumbling something about green not being his color, slamming his bedroom door behind himself. That man watched way too much daytime Telly if he knew what his "color" was. I stretched my legs out in front of me, yawning. I had gotten up early to do some last minute Christmas shopping, then headed directly to the flat, so I could help John get Sherlock ready. I grinned at that thought, it was like having a child. A very, very attractive child. Who was a billion times more intelligent than yourself...

Well, hopefully he will like his Christmas gift, I thought to myself. I had gotten John a new jumper, a pretty shade of tan with a red patterns on the neck and I had gotten Sherlock a new scarf (that I knitted by hand, mind you) and an interesting book about the worlds criminals, past and present. I hadn't known what to get Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson, though, so I settled on some homemade chocolate bread for each of them. Mary and I had exchanged gifts a few weeks back.

I grabbed my purse, which was sitting on the intricately beautiful antique coffee table in front of me. I unzipped the black purse and dug through it's messy contents, trying to locate the small bottle of emerald green nail polish. I smiled when i found it and opened it. I started on my left hand, which i considered the easy hand, seeing as I was right handed. That ended way too quickly for my liking, because now I was faced with the task of trying to paint my dominant hand. I concentrated on trying to coordinate my hand, my tongue sticking out a bit.

"I never understood why women painted their Nails, of all things." I heard the deep, sophisticated voice of Sjerlock Holmes say. I grinned up at him, wiggling my partially painted hand in his direction. "'Course you wouldn't get it, you're a lad, after all." I said, playfully rolling my eyes. Sherlock just looked at me, as if he didnt understand that had to do with anything. I just shook my head and went back to carefully painting my left thumbnail. After messing it up and painting my skin green, I heard a shuffling sound and saw that Sherlock had lowered himself off the couch and was now sitting next to me, legs stretched out in front of him as well. I bit my lip, nervous because of how intently he was watching me, as of this whole process was fascinating.

"Would you like some assistance?" He asked, softly. I looked at him in shock, Sherlock Holmes offering to do something as mundane, let alone silly, as painting my nails? I smiled at him pleasantly, slightly amused. "You know, I would actually really appreciate that." I said, handing the bottle to him, our fingers brushing one anothers. Sherlock delicately dipped the brush into the polish and wiped it off on the lip of the jar before testing it on his own nail. I had to stifle a giggle, seeing Sherlock Holmes paint his nails green hadn't originally been on my bucket list, but it sure was going on now, just so I could cross it off.

Satisfied that he could successfully paint my nails, Sherlock reached over and gently took my small, thin-fingered hand. My heart twitched in my chest, doing some sort of tango. i frowned a little, surprised the i reacted in that fashion. Sherlock started painting my nails carefully, taking his time, using only the corner of the brush. I smiled, watching him fix his intentions solely on my nails, as if this was one of his experiments. He was extremely attractive when he focused, i noticed, his clear grey eyes narrowed slightly and he bit his bottom lip just a tiny bit.

I realized I was starting to stare, so I adverted my attention to the Christmas tree in the corner, inspecting the ornaments. There weren't many on the small tree, only about a dozen or so. I smiled as I realized that they had all been gifts from the people I knew, to the boys. John must have given Sherlock the miniature (and life-like)skull. i believed Sherlock had given John the plain, traditional red one. I remember John telling me about receiving it. Mrs. Hudson had given both of them the gingerbread men that smelled like really ginger, that wore matching bow ties and Lestrade had gifted Sherlock the Scotland Yard badge on a string. I smiled, seeing that there were also others, that seemed to be handmade by John and Mary. It was sweet, I personally had always loved decorating the tree. It seemed like every year I unwrapped happy memories and it made me feel so loved and less lonely, but I wasn't lonely often anymore. I had John and Sherlock.

Sherlock cleared his throat and handed me the bottle of polish, indicating that he was finished. i looked down at them and smiled, seeing that they were, of course, perfect. Sherlock lifted my hand to his lips and began blowing on my finger tips. I raised an eyebrow, completely a,used at this show of oddness. "What are you doing, Sherlock?" I asked, as he continued blowing on them. He looked at me as if I had asked him if he realized that he was a genius. "Because, the warm air from my breath makes the water in the polish evaporate quicker than if I had just left it to it's on devices." He stated, instead of just saying that he was drying them. I smiled the smile that only he seemed to get out of me. The one filled with an adoration I didn't qute understand.

John came out of his bedroom quickly, a hanger in each hand. Sherlock quickly let go of my hand and placed his own in his signature steeple position. John looked at us suspiciously before he sat down on the coffee table in front of the two of us. "Should I wear my jumper or my blue dress shirt with a tie?" He asked, thrusting first a cream, Irish cable knit sweater forward and then the blue button up with a Christmas tie slung over it. I smiled at his nervousness and longing to impress his mew girlfriend, Mary. "I personally like the jumper. It's more John-like." I said, giving him a sympathetic smile.

John looked at Sherlock hopefully, who was staring at me in a quizzical fashion. He quickly looked away when I glanced in his direction. "Sherlock? What do you think?" John asked, as of he could not make this decision on his own. Sherlock looked at John lazily before answering, "This is boring." And getting up off the floor and strolling languidly into the kitchen. John glared at the back of his curly head, muttering something that sounded awfully dirty, before looking at me and smiling his thanks. He got up and headed to his room once again.

I stood up and stretched, looking at the clock on the mantel. It was about thirty minutes before Mrs. Hudson expected us downstairs in the foyer that she fixed up just for the occasion. "Oi, Sherlock, is it alright if I use your room to change in?" I asked, picking up the bag the contained my dress and shoes. Sherlock barely nodded his head, absorbed in something that lay in a test tube. I shrugged and wandered into his room. It's funny, I thought to myself, for such a messy, unorganized man, his room is awfully empty and clean. I smiled to myself, seeing the that only personal item of his that was out in the opened happened to be which the picture of John, Mrs. Hudson, himself, and I that was taken shortly after our first case together. It was one that John had insisted in taking and had printed a copy for each of us. It felt good to know that Sherlock cared enough to frame it and place it on his dresser.

I quickly stripped out of my lovely warm clothing and socks, sighing as the cold air assaulted my body. I started digging around the bag, pulling the dress out. Why didnt Sherlock keep his room warmer, I wondered as I started shivering hysterically. I slipped the dress on, brushing out the wrinkles and zipping up the side. I had bought this dress when I was with Mary a few weeks ago, well actually, Mary had bought it for me. As an early Christmas gift, she had said. I really did like it, too. It was a Christmas green that had a pretty pattern and it just touched my knees. I plopped down on his bed and put my black ankle boots on. I fell back onto his mattress and rolled over, so that my face was pressed into the pillow. I inhaled the smell that was unique to Sherlock. I forced myself to get up and walked over to the mirror, brushing my fingers through my auburn hair. I reached into the bag at my feet and pulled out my snowflake earrings and donned them happily.

I opened the door and walked down the hall just to find Sherlock pinned to the coffee table by John, who had his best friend's arm locked behind his back. "Boys!" I shouted, quickly coming over to them, trying to separate the two by placing my hands on johns chest and pushing a bit. "What is going on here?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at them when I realized it was a fruitless attempt. Sherlock looked up at me, a mask of guilt on his face. John grunted, before saying in a highly grumpy voice, "Sherlock refuses to change out of his house coat. He stated that if I wanted him to change, that I'd have to make him. So, I am merely doing as he suggested in the first place. The bloody git." John added as an afterthought.

I sighed, giving sherlock a whithering look, telling John to release his hold on the taller man. "Really, Sherlock?" I asked, not understanding why someone so incredible acted like such a child at times. Sherlock glared. "I hate parties. I hate having to act all friendly and shallow, pretending that just because it's Christmas everything is jolly good. It's stupid and too boring." Sherlock pouted. John rolled his eyes, giving me his best is he serious look. "Really, mate? It's once a year, just pretend. Now!" Sherlock ignored John, sitting down on the couch once again. "Jess, will you help Sherlock change?" John asked, as if asking me to help dress a fully grown man was nothing out of the ordinary. I gave him my best 'really?' Look, only to be answered with John's puppy dog eyes. I sighed, giving in. "Fine. Come on, Sherlock." I said, blushing as I led him to his own bedroom, thinking about how awkward this must look.

Sherlock shut the door behind himself, leaning against it. I made sure to shoot him an irritated glare before I dug through his drawers, trying to find so etching remotely festive. I had almost reached the bottom of the drawer when I found what I had been looking for. "Aha!" I shouted, holding up a dark blue hand knit sweater in triumph. Sherlocks eyes twinkled, before taking it from me. "Really, Jessica? A jumper? Since when did I become John?" He asked, brandishing the sweater around. I smiled sweetly. "Maybe you could learn a thing or two from john." I said, playfully. Sherlock took a few steps towards me, no emotion evident on his face, causing me to take a few steps back.

"Oh, really?" He asked, a smirk appearing. I nodded, getting nervous with how close he was. I could clearly see the grey flecks in his gorgeous blue-grey eyes. Sherlock sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Like his love of tradition?" He asked, I replied with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. "Sure, why not? It's sweet and actually kind of fun." I squeaked, frustrated at my voice for betraying me at a time like this, it was just Sherlock! Sherlock took a step closer, forcing me to take a step back once again. "Okay, then." Sherlock said, pointing to the ceiling. I looked up in curiosity, seeing a little green bundle with white berries. I frowned, realizing that I was standing under mistletoe.

I was about to object, to say he didnt have to and that i was kidding, when Sherlock bent down, grabbed the top of my arms and gave me a quick, but firm kiss on the mouth. "Merry Christmas, Jess. You look beautiful." He said soft and sweet. I just stared at him in shock, before stumbling towards the door. "Umn, yeah, merry Christmas to you too. Umn, I trust that you can put that on yourself." I stuttered, motioning at the sweater with my chin, as I tripped out of his room. I quickly shut the door behind me, only to find a smirking John leaning against the opposite wall. Just then, it dawned on me what he had done. He had planned it all. He had tricked us. JOHN had tricked me!

John just stood there, smirking, like he was the master of all. I recalled the kiss, how casually Sherlock had just pressed his lips against mine. I was elated, but why? It was just a friendly peck on the lips, that's all, and it was just sherlock... I felt like a teenager again, after my first kiss, the bundle of confusing emotions swirling in my tummy, forming into butterflies. I narrowed my eyes at John as he started laughing. I smirked, leaning against the wall next to him, suddenly getting an idea. "That's okay." I said. "But, I do have the photo of you after the case of the London mud maniac. Remember? The one when Sherlock had you go undercover as a line dancer? Remember that? I'm sure Mary would just love to see that!" I said, smiling smugly as Johns eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare." He said, his voice shaking a bit. Just then the doorbell rang, our eyes meeting. "Oh, but I would." I said, and started running for the door, John at my heels, shouting profanities at me the whole way.


End file.
